I Wanna Be a Lifeguard.

So what’s with all this talk lately about doing heroic things, all of a sudden? Huh?

First there’s that story of the “Subway Superman,” the “Hero of Harlem” that jumped in front of a train to save a man who had fallen on the tracks after suffering an epileptic seizure. Then there's all tht talk about the two guys who saved a three-year-old who was dangling off a fire escape.

And here I am, scratching my head, trying to remember if there’s ever been any instance in my apparently drab, miserable, selfish life where I’ve ever done anything that could ever be even remotely considered heroic. Life-saving.

Think, think, think. Have I ever rescued a child from a burning building? Performed the Heimlich on someone choking on a chicken bone? Saved a drowning swimmer? Have I ever rescued a kitten from a tree, possibly? Or, saved Lois Lane from a terrible earthquake at the San Andreas fault by spinning around the earth and turning back time?

Sigh. No, I haven’t. Not once.

But it's not my fult. Not really, it isn't. It's just fate, really. See, not once in my 41 years of existence have I ever actually been placed in the position of getting the opportunity to save someone.

And I bet I would, too. I bet I’d be the best life saver that ever was!

Just you wait. Tomorrow, Ted the Hero springs into action. I’m going to help little old ladies across the street! I’m going to breast-feed starving infants! I’m going to pull Ossama out of the cave! I’ll do it, whatever it is, as Bob is my witless, if it takes all day and night! I'll be the best subway supering, kitten saving, world-turning, breast-feeding hero that there ever was!

Sigh. I’d think I’d better go take a nap. I’m getting tired just thinking about all the heroic things I’m going to have to do tomorrow. This hero thing is tiring business.

###

Tonight, I stood at the front desk of Corb’s work, talking to Annie, when Corb entered the room, weighed down with a plateful of Panera sandwiches, a huge salad, and three long loaves of fresh bread.

“What’s all this for?” I asked, laughing.

“For us,” he said. “I planned a meeting today, and they didn’t come close to eating everything.”

What he didn't say was that almost all of it was for us. As we pulled into the driveway of our apartment complex, Corb abruptly asked me to pull the car over. Then, he hopped out of his seat, and jumped into the back, next to Ashes.

“What are you doing?”
( Read more... )